


Percival Graves and the Stolen Face

by ChangeTheCircumstances



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Not a Happy Story, PTSD, Post-Movie, Pre-Movie, Torture, a hopeful end though, basically percival's backstory and what happened to him after grindelwald was captured, fix-it?, sort of canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeTheCircumstances/pseuds/ChangeTheCircumstances
Summary: Percival Graves was rather logical and straightforward in everything he did. He had a way of looking at the world and saw no need in changing his views. However, an introduction with Grindelwald quickly changes his life for the worst.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to first give a quick thank you to everyone who decides to read this. Your support means the world to me. Also, I wanted to note that since the story does take place in the 20s, knowledge of PTSD and other mental disorders aren't well known or even accepted like they are today, hence why the story goes in the direction it does and certain people don't get the help they probably should.
> 
> Also, the idea of this story is more to see what happened to the real Percival Graves surrounding the events of FBaWtFT so I likely won't continue this, at least for now. Once the other movies come out, if I'm inspired to do a different take on them I may write more but otherwise this story is finished as is.
> 
> That's about all I have so, I just want to say hope you enjoy and thanks again for reading <3

Despite his diverse abilities and talent, understanding emotion was not one of Percival Graves’ strongest suits.

At home and school, it had been his one weakness. Sometimes he just didn’t understand why his parents or older sister would become so upset when he bluntly told the truth, or why they always urged him to talk only to seem bored as he rattled off the creation process of some potion he had learned.

School was a completely different battleground though with no unconditional love there. In his early days, he was a complete bookworm which earned some teasing from the other children. However, his lack of interaction with the others meant that he was mostly left alone, particularly since he didn’t seem to understand their sarcasm and jokes. However, when urged to do something other than read all day, Percival’s school life drastically changed.

Under pressure from his parents to become involved with school activities, Percival decided to join the dueling club at his school, finally putting to work the spells that he had read about day in and day out. He quickly proved himself to be one of the best in his class, and later his school, and quickly began traveling for tournaments thanks to his new found stardom. Suddenly being thrust amongst his peers then brought two results.

One was the classmates that were suddenly idolizing him, looking up to him and aspiring to be him (most of which were younger). And then there were those that Percival had upstaged, mostly older classmates who felt humiliated by how quickly the silent bookworm had beat them. At first, Percival would have preferred to hide from any conflict. He planned on quitting dueling after his first win at a tournament, largely due to the older boys that later grabbed him and relentlessly hit him for humiliating their three year champion.

However, heading home afterwards changed Percival’s plans.

He had never seen his parents prouder of him and his sister (by then out of school and working), had traveled all the way from her job in Australia to simply “crush him with a hug” as she put it.

For his parents, they had never minded his love of books but now he was actually doing something with that knowledge. For Percival, it was a turning point in his life, seeing how proud he had made his family. He wanted to do that again so he kept with dueling, slowly learning how to deal with the attention that came with it.

Though still preferring a book rather than company, and often being characterized as stone-faced, he still managed to improve his people skills. He personally still found trouble in connecting with people but he at least started to understand what connected others. That insight coupled with his astounding grades and dueling skills quickly made him a prime candidate to work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

As he rose in the ranks and became more involved with the truly important cases, Percival found his lack of emotion actually helped him distance himself from the more gruesome jobs.

This became even more evident when he was asked to help Porpentina Goldstein in following a No-Maj. By this point, he was already an Auror and the Director of Magical Security. Goldstein had only recently become an Auror. From the reports Percival had read, she was a good one but sometimes emotion seemed to overrule practicality.

Percival did feel sorry for her when she lost her license but they had no right in interfering with No-Maj law, even with a No-Maj as horrendous as Mary Lou Barebone. All that should have occurred was that they should have decided the woman’s cause was no true threat to their kind and moved on. Instead, the discovery of her abuse of children, particularly Credence, changed that.

As Goldstein had comforted the crying young man, Percival had felt compelled to do something. However, he could not think up any words to say, nor was he sure what the proper path in physical comfort was. He therefore settled on just silently and carefully moving a hand over Credence’s wounds, the broken skin quickly knitting together and the bruises disappearing.

After obliviating him, that should have been it. But Goldstein had attacked Ms. Barebone in public and Percival had quickly found himself dealing with a mountain of work, obliviating No-Majs left and right as he tried to contain the situation.

Again, he had felt sorry for the man but there had been nothing else they could do and the removal of Goldstein’s Auror license had been the proper thing to do.

Not long after that, Percival found himself applying for off time due to the holidays. It wasn’t often he took breaks from work but because it was so rare, he made sure to head home during important occasions.

On the one hand, his grandmother from Ireland on his mother’s side had finally passed away which was a sad occasion in deed. On the other hand, it would be his first chance of seeing his newborn nephew, a very special occasion seeing as it had been unexpected, so it was important he got out there nonetheless.

It would be their last Christmas in his grandmother’s home since they’d likely sell it soon afterwards and he planned to make the best of it.

* * *

 

The trip to Ireland had been uneventful enough and the holidays began normal too. Percival often took his usual place in armchairs situated in the corners of the rooms, mostly just watching his family interact though his sister did manage to convince him to hold his new nephew a few times. They had almost named him Gondulphus, after one of their ancestors. Thankfully they had changed it to Albert at the last minute though the kid would still be tortured with Gondulphus as a middle name.

As usual, Percival said little to Maximilian, his brother-in-law, during the visit. At first, their lack of speech had produced what the family called an awkward bubble. Now, their silence was more comfortable, Maximilian often joining Percival in watching their family when socializing became to much. Roxanne, his sister, had always been talkative enough for two anyways. It wasn’t too surprising that her husband preferred silence to words.

The days continued on, the earlier ones tinged with mourning for his grandmother’s death and the rest of the days filled with laughter and fun, often involving Albert.

That all changed on Christmas Eve.

It was during lunch time when it happened, everyone relaxed and smiling and eating. Roxanne kept trying to convince him to feed Albert when suddenly the lights were out. Most wouldn’t have thought anything of it, particularly due to the storm outside and the home’s poor wiring system, yet Percival couldn’t help feeling on edge.

However, even his instinct and quick reflexes did him no good in their current situation. He managed to glimpse the white hair, saw the attacker and _knew_ , but the world went black all the same.

The more logical side of Percival couldn’t help but berate himself for the surprise attack. Though not all powerful, the Graves held important positions in the Wizarding World. His sister was an Auror as well, part of a group focused on prosecuting the illegal selling of magical potions and spells, like a Black Market, and her husband was a leader in politics in his homeland of Australia. Percival’s father had just been a simple gardener of specialized herbs but his mother had once held very high office in America and had many connections that could prove dangerous if given to the wrong person.

For someone like Grindelwald, they were a good choice for kidnapping.

When Percival awoke though, it was not Grindelwald’s face that he saw but his own and that of all his family. He was frozen to the floor, unable to speak or move with arms frozen to his sides. All he could do was breath and move his eyes. He could just barely catch where his real sister, Maximilian, mother, and father were lying on the floor in random positions but Albert…

He finally drew his eyes back to who he knew must have been Grindelwald and select followers. He looked to the one disguised as his sister who now held his nephew in her arms.

Before he could think on that more though, he watched himself move closer. The imposter did a quick movement of his ( _Percival’s_ ) wand, momentarily revealing Grindelwald behind the mask.

“Simply know that I intend no harm to come to your family,” the man said, his voice slow and soft, as if trying to create a sense that everything was alright. “What I am doing will help our society, will help witches and wizards. This is for the greater good. Do not worry.”

Percival had plenty of things to say to that. Though he kept out of the politics of whether or not wizards should reveal themselves to the rest of the world, the fact of the matter was that Grindelwald did not use peaceful protests for his ideals and many of his actions were illegal and harmful to others.

And now he had Percival’s family and him frozen to the floor, unable to move or do anything.

“I will have someone check on you every day, make sure you are nourished. Do not worry, with any luck, you will have your lives back within the following year.”

With that, the facade moved back into place and Percival watched himself walk away with his nephew in tow.

* * *

 

For Percival Graves, despite his difficulty with emotion, the one that he perhaps understood best was fear. Fear made people do stupid things. Percival had been privy to some horrific actions motivated by fear.

Because of this, he needed to stop whatever Grindelwald was creating. The panic that could arise from whatever disaster he seeked after could tear the Wizarding World apart. He needed to protect everyone, to save his family.

At the time, he thought it was from logic that he did what he did. Every day, some stranger would come, momentarily undoing their bindings, allowing them to eat, relieve themselves, and walk about before finally extracting hair from each for what Percival could only assume was for polyjuice potion. As Grindelwald said, no true harm came but the stranger did seem to take great joy in randomly binding them, suddenly causing someone to fall to the floor without warning.

It was during one of these moments of reprieve, that Percival thought he might have a chance. Though without his wand and voice (they made sure to keep them all mute even when unfrozen), Percival was still one of the few wizards of the world able to perform magic with some control. It was best to have something to conduct it, especially if not using words, but if he played it right, he could possibly free his family.

His actions had been the right ones, that was what he had thought. But his failure proved all the more harmful as he was ambushed the moment he took down the stranger. It made since that others had been watching from afar and, if he’d only had his wand, he could have taken them all down.

As it was though, he was eventually subdued and frozen again. Besides a few well aimed kicks to the face, it seemed that his failed attempt was just that with no other consequences though.

Yet they received a rare visit from Grindelwald on one horrible day. A day when Percival’s father started to have a fit right after they had all gone through the daily reprieve. The fits were rare and his medicine quickly worked to stop them but they could quickly turn deadly if not treated and all Grindelwald was doing was standing above the shaking form that Percival could just barely see out of the corner of his eyes.

Percival wanted to cry at Grindelwald to help him but all he could do was watch with the rest of his family as the fit became worse and worse, eventually so bad that it broke the spell binding his father to the floor. Now he could hear it. The choking, the shaking, the wretched noises of somebody dying.

_Help him!_

His cries remained unheard though as Percival watched his father’s form slowly still and saw a final breath escape his lips. Before he could even comprehend what had just occurred, Grindelwald was in his face while still sporting Percival’s own features.

“This would not have happened if you had simply continued as told. I do not like to kill my own kind but I will do what must be done to make an example. Do you understand?”

Percival didn’t understand. His father hadn’t even been a threat. He’d been the least threatening of all of them there. And Grindelwald had just allowed him to die. For…for nothing.

Despite being unable to speak, Grindelwald seemed to see that answer and promptly punched him in the face, moving Percival’s head from straight up to his right.

That seemed punishment enough as for the next twenty-four hours, until the strangers came back, Percival found himself unable to open his eyes unless he wanted to stare at his father’s corpse.

For the first time, he seemed to understand fear on a personal level.

* * *

 

It was the smell.

Despite all that Percival had seen, so often the smell was either gone due to no corpse being left behind or because a quick charm could mask it.

But the people that came didn’t mask it. They didn’t place an illusion over the rotting form.

And the smell just kept growing.

And it was Percival’s fault.

It was Grindelwald’s fault!

But he wouldn’t have done anything if Percival had just _behaved_.

Losing track of the days, only having himself to talk to, he felt like he was going crazy. Logic had always been his friend yet now it was abandoning him and he had no idea what to believe, what to think. Apparently his sister felt the same way.

She didn’t act like Percival had, planned and precise and trying to get them all out of there. Her newborn child was gone, possible dead. Their father was dead and rotting next to them. She fought to kill and she did, but only to fall to the same end.

And the smell only grew.

Percival started to be unable to differentiate between actual thoughts and silent screaming. The days blurred even more so and always the smell, the _smell_.

But he had to keep it together—

His mother and Maximilian were still alive—

Right?

How long had it been? Days? Weeks?

No it had to be longer because corpses didn’t look like that in only a few weeks…corpses…the smell…his fault, it was his fault—

* * *

 

Finally, the repetition was broken.

Percival knew something had changed because the daily occurrences hadn’t happened for the millionth time. He knew because no stranger came to keep them alive. He knew because he could suddenly move, knew as he felt that the spells were gone, that they had been released for whatever reason. That…that…

That the tears kept at bay were coming and the tortured scream from a throat that had not spoken in months was finally being released.

The noise only mixed with that of Maximilian and his mother.

* * *

 

The first thing Percival knew was he was waking up. The next thing he could understand was that he was being restrained which sent a stream of panic through him. However, he couldn’t do anything or even comprehend what was happening as he was blacking out again.

When he woke up the second time, it was to the soothing sounds of a woman with a New Jersey accent repeatedly saying, “It’s alright Mr. Graves. You’re safe now. It’s alright.”

Opening his eyes and seeing that he was in the hospital, only one question came to his mind. He had always thought it pointless and repetitive how victims would ask questions with obvious answers, often answers they should have been able to know themselves. Yet his raw throat forced the words out anyway.

“Roxanne…?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss Mr. Graves,” the woman responded softly. “Graves Senior and Mrs. Hansen-Graves will be laid to rest in the coming days.”

For a moment, all Percival did was blink. And then he understood why people asked such obvious questions. It was hope. Hope that they were mistaken, that their eyes had tricked them. Like many of those people though, Percival’s hope was shattered and he found himself unable to keep the tears out of his eyes.

* * *

 

Percival didn’t really receive an answer as to what had happened or how they had been found. At least not right away. At first, a day passed where all he saw were nurses. They had already gone about healing the physical wounds but magical and mental would clearly take longer, hence his continued stay. The next day he saw Maximilian holding Albert in his hands.

As per usual, neither talked, opting for silence instead, but neither shied away from the tears that started to flow down their faces after a minute passed. When it was time for Maximilian to go, Percival softly responded, “It’s not your fault,” because he could tell what his brother-in-law had been thinking.

“It’s not yours either,” he responded back, both trying to comfort the other yet neither seeming to succeed.

On the third day, Percival finally saw his mother again. When he looked at her, he honestly couldn’t tell if she would ever recover. She wasn’t brain dead. It was more like she had chosen to leave the realm of the conscious. Percival couldn’t really blame her. He wanted to follow her too.

On the fourth day, his father and Roxanne were buried. Percival and what remained of his family were allowed to go though they were taken straight back to the hospital afterwards. More distant family members came to visit, but after only two minutes he found himself breaking again. There were three of them there, his uncle and two cousins, yet that was too much. To often he found himself checking simply one person’s voice, sometimes unable to convince himself that it truly was someone else talking and not his inner thoughts.

With one person, particularly someone like Maximilian who spoke little, it was easier to finally know what was real. With three different voices though, it was too confusing and already he could feel his conflicting thoughts bounce inside his skull.

It’s your fault.

It’s my fault.

I lost my sister because of you.

Look at your cousins. They lost their uncle and cousin because of you.

You’re still on the floor.

Grandmother’s floor.

They’re all dead.

You haven’t left.

This isn’t real.

The rot. the rot. the rot the rot therottherottherottherot—

And then he screamed. Screamed into his hands and covered his face because if he couldn’t see anything then his mind couldn’t convince him what was or wasn’t real. He screamed, voice growing raw again despite the spells used to fix it and he eventually passed out, though from his own exhaustion or because someone gave him something to calm him down, he wasn’t sure.

Waking up on the fifth day brought something different though. Upon opening his eyes, he was shocked to see Porpentina Goldstein. The second thing he noticed was how far she was sitting away from him, as far as the room would allow.

“President Picquery has tasked me with evaluating your health, taking your statement, informing, and watching over you for the foreseeable time,” she said, her voice quivering for a second before turning strong and steady again.

Percival tried to understand the quiver, why she had stumbled over her words. However, he mustered up his energy to ask, “You’ve been reinstated?”

As she frowned and leaned forward, he repeated his words again, forcing his voice to grow louder. That was another issue, how he was unable to tell how loud he spoke. Sometimes it even seemed he wasn’t speaking at all though nurses claimed he was.

Either way though, Goldstein heard him the second time and gave a quick nod. “Yes.”

Percival simply nodded in return and waited for what would come next.

At first, it was mostly questions about his own mental state, many of which he found himself unable to answer or even explain. He felt exposed and powerless, finding it hard to simply interact with this one person.

Eventually Goldstein got to the actual questioning, asking for him to restate all that he knew of Grindelwald and what had happened. It truly highlighted his mental state as time and time again she had to ask him to repeat something as he’d actually been talking in his head or speaking to softly again.

A few aspects he couldn’t repeat no matter how hard he tried. The words simply wouldn’t come and he found his throat involuntarily constrict. In front of relatives he barely saw or nurses he’d never seen before, such actions weren’t as humiliating. But now he was hyper aware that he was sitting with a reinstated Auror, that everything he did would go back to the President. He knew that he had a certain image within the Department, that he had to show that he was fine and he could go back to work (because if he couldn’t work then what was there to do?).

But it was to exhausting and he could feel himself breaking moment by moment as he recounted the details he could remember.

Before he could break though, he was able to notice something change in Goldstein’s posture. Understanding seemed to blossom on her face, some form of acceptance, and he found her quickly moving her seat close to his bedside.

“I am sorry Mr. Graves for how I have behaved.”

His confusion must have shown because she quickly went on to explain further.

“I, like many of the Department, were shocked that Grindelwald was hiding under our noses and none of us even suspected a thing. You… _he_ sentenced me to die Mr. Graves and even then, I fully believed it was you and I have been acting like what _he_ did was a part of your actions,” Goldstein replied. “I apologize.”

Percival blinked in shock at the admittance, now understanding Goldstein’s earlier actions and apparent discomfort. However, something more worrisome was at the front of Percival’s mind as he asked, “Did a mad man truly play me that well?”

Goldstein hesitated for a second as she tried to settle for an answer. “Truthfully…he did. You are usually a hard man to read Mr. Graves and I believe he used that characteristic to his advantage. But his actions did not carry your heart.”

It was clear that she was referencing the incident with Credence and at first, her words brought him some solace. However, he also noticed the pain that seemed to come and stay in her eyes. He wanted to ask what had happened but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it. Not right away. So instead he asked, “I have told you my side. Tell me what occurred here.”

* * *

 

Percival found himself feeling hot and feverish yet oddly cold and numb when Goldstein finished her story. It was a magical tale, one that would have intrigued him if he hadn’t been so connected to it. Part of him couldn’t believe Credence was an Obscurus. It should have been impossible. But even worse, he couldn’t believe the Department killed him without hesitation. Perhaps he would think differently if he had been there, but all he could remember was the crying boy with the cuts and bruises. He wondered if his obliviation hadn’t been successful then, because he had done it like Credence was a No-Maj. He wondered if Credence had remembered.

He wondered if Grindelwald had used that against him.

That night, he went to bed feeling even more sick yet his exhaustion thankfully stopped any dreams at bay.

The next day, he was not surprised to see Ms. Goldstein there upon waking up, but he was a bit more surprised that she had breakfast with her.

That morning, she filled the silence enough for both of them and Percival realized that by noon, she hadn’t asked him a single question involving his kidnapping, Grindelwald, or the Department. Neither did she move around him like he was made of glass and when he felt like he may drown, she gently coaxed him back. She talked to him like he was a person, even if he barely responded to anything she said.

Despite getting on up in his years, it was Porpentina Goldstein that showed him that logic wasn’t everything. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he could ever move about a person as broken as he like she did but he did hold her in a different light now and saw her emotion as much more than a weakness. Similar to how he saw his own logical mind as far more than just strength.

There time together grew and Percival quickly found that having another presences helped. It was more often Goldstein (or ‘Tina as he now called her), but being with his brother-in-law and/or nephew helped as well.

His mother not so much. Her silence eventually became more painful than welcomed and being alone with her to often felt more like abandonment than anything else.

But overall he felt like he was improving, at least until President Picquery and several of his other colleagues finally came to speak to him.

He seemed to be doing well at first. One even joked that they really couldn’t see the difference between the real Graves and Grindelwald’s version. The comment, though distasteful and hurtfut, did not seem to cause Percival any discomfort and he managed to remain as impassive as ever.

But then the President asked, “Can you keep a clear head within an interrogation with the killer of your father and sister?”

Percival suddenly found his voice gone as his breathing escalated. He knew the President would see, that she would see and press because she needed to know if her Aurors would break. Percival would have done the same thing if their positions were switched but they weren’t and his breathing only increased.

“You were lying in a room with your dead father’s corpse for eight months, six for your sister. I need to know if you can still handle yourself.”

Percival was gripping the sheets now, trying to continue his even stare with the President but finding his head slowly dipping down. The President was kind enough to send everyone else out, clearly seeing what was about to happen. But once it was just the two of them, the President continued with, “You didn’t just witness them die, you watched their bodies decay. You remained mute for over half a year, lying by members of your dead family. I need to know if you can see Grindelwald and not—I am sorry Graves.”

She finally stopped in her relentless words just before Percival thought he might release a scream. The smell of rot was heavy in his nose and he was just barely able to focus on the President as she said, “I am going to have you stay on extended leave until further notice. I am sorry Graves, but you are clearly to much of a danger to yourself and possibly others to be let back into the field. I will continue having Goldstein regularly note any progress or decline in your condition and I will require you to meet with her once a week though I understand if you’ll want to relocate elsewhere for a while.”

Percival just nodded. He couldn’t do more than that. The tears and scream were still there and he didn’t know what to do. The smell of rot still filled his nose.

“Best wishes for a speedy recovery,” murmured the President in response.

For Percival, it simply felt like another stab to his gut.

* * *

 

He began to feel like he was kissed by a dementor. He knew that his pain was probably nothing like that, but it was how experts seem to be treating him. They didn’t know how to help him, or really his brother-in-law or his mother any further. So with all physical and magical wounds healed, he was told to go home.

Maximilian offered a place at his home. He still had a child to take care of and had already decided on taking his mother-in-law too in the hopes of helping her. Percival should have been angry, it was his mother after all, but when he wasn’t even sure if he could handle himself, he knew he couldn’t handle her. Besides, Maximilian had a purpose. He had a child to take of and couldn’t afford to succumb to neglect. For Percival, his purpose had always been his job. But President Picquery had already taken that from him.

So Percival did the only thing he could and went back to his apartment in New York. Yet despite his reasoning, that seemed to be the wrong move as the solitude slowly started to weigh him down. With no work and no one to talk to, his mind began to wonder which was a truly dangerous thing.

Only his regular meet-ups with ‘Tina seemed to break through the pain. She seemed to take note of that and they often visited twice more, sometimes her sister Queenie even coming along though it wasn’t necessary.

If he wasn’t out with ‘Tina, Percival often found himself covering up his nose though, trying to hide the stench of rot that seemed to come out of nowhere as he was reminded by something or woke from a particularly horrific dream. Sometimes the pain got to the point where he just screamed as well, feeling like he was seeing their dead bodies all over again.

However, the worst dream by far was when two months had passed of him being cooped up in his apartment with only the short reprieve of ‘Tina. It was a normal dream, one of laughter and rolled eyes and when he woke up, Percival’s first thought was on how he needed to see if he was going to Christmas this year.

And then it hit him in one blow that it would never happen again and the entire day he was unable to move as his mind swirled with accusations and the belief that it had all been his fault.

* * *

 

Another month passed and it seemed that nothing had changed. He still met with ‘Tina, usually more than once a week, and those days were certainly the good ones. Yet once alone, he seemed to only become more distraught, his guilt and the smell of rot only growing. He wasn’t getting better but he had no idea what to do or how to fix the situation. A year ago he had been the head of the Department of Magical Security, the top Auror in not just New York but possibly the country. Now he was haunted by scents that weren’t real and often woke up with tears or screaming or both.

Yet one day seemed to change when his doorbell was unexpectedly rung.

The first thought was that it was ‘Tina but she always mailed ahead about next week’s places to meet. No one else came to mind, least of all the person that was behind the door when Percival finally opened it.

He couldn’t help it. He collapsed. He felt like the final stone had been struck and he had finally shattered into bits on the ground. But the young man didn’t allow him to fall and in moments Percival found himself back on his couch and gazing back at Credence Barebone.

He was still hunched over, though perhaps a little less than when Percival last saw him, and his hair had grown some. Otherwise though, it was unmistakably Credence.

“I felt I needed to apologize because I didn’t realize it wasn’t you and though you don’t know I was ready to kill you but all you’ve ever done was help me and I should have listened to the lady and should have realized something was wrong when you came back with the too hopeful promises and—”

“Credence stop!”

Percival realized his mistake the moment he said it. He watched Credence’s head drop completely to the floor, watched the way he flinched, and sensed the surge of power that rolled off him, like he could explode in any second.

“I didn’t mean it Credence. I’m sorry. I’m sorry ok? I just…I don’t understand. I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

Percival watched carefully, the silence stretching on as inch by inch, Credence slowly raised his head to look at him again. At first, they simply stared at each other, Percival not wanting to make a wrong move.

Credence eventually spoke first and his words surprised and confused Percival even more. “I…I was wondering…I wanted to ask…I wanted your help.”

How could Percival help him if he couldn’t help himself?

“What do you mean?” asked Credence.

So he had slipped and said the words out loud. Guilt and self-hatred and confusion continued to stew inside him as Percival simply shook his head. “Credence, I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can be here. They told me you were dead. That you died! And I just don’t…”

He didn’t know what else he could say. He was lost with no guidance and there was little solace when he looked up to see Credence seemed to hold the same expression Percival was feeling.

“I don’t know either,” Credence finally said. “I don’t know how I survived or why I’m still here. But…I know it was because of the kindness of people like you and the Ms. and Mr. Scamander that I didn’t make a terrible mistake. I…I know that I was lucky, all things considered and that I don’t want to see others hurt like me and that’s why I wanted your help to catch him.”

Though Credence still kept his face mostly focused on the ground, Percival was impressed with the words. For a split second, a positive emotion, something akin to pride, moved in Percival’s chest that the young man who had been through so much had somehow come out stronger on the other end. Nevertheless, the ending confused Percival. “Who are you talking about?”

“The white haired man. The one who hurt you as well. Grindelwald.”

Percival shook his head. Before any form of fear could enter it, he said, “He’s locked up Credence. He won’t be—”

“I watched him escape. I was there,” he interrupted. “I would have followed him but he disappeared and I didn’t know how. That’s why I want your help. I don’t understand your world and where he might have gone but I-I don’t want him hurting others. It’s not right and I…Mr. Graves?”

Grindelwald was out. He was free again and…and no one had told him. Why? How was it that the first he was hearing of this was from a man that should be dead?

“Come with me. We need to see someone,” Percival said urgently, using all his energy to focus on the task at hand in the hopes that his mind wouldn’t turn against him.

Glancing at the time as he grabbed his wand, Percival noted where ‘Tina most likely was and as he stepped out of his apartment, he gestured for Credence to come closer. “Take hold and prepare yourself. You may not be used to this.”

Then with a quick flick of his wand, they were zoomed across the city, landing right at ‘Tina’s apartment. Percival noted how well Credence did, though he chalked that up to Credence being an Obscurus. He then returned attention to the apartment door and rapidly knocked.

It took some time before an elderly woman opened the door, giving them both a critical eye as she started with, “No men are allowed in the rooms—”

“Then get ‘Tina Goldstein down here now,” hissed Percival perhaps to harshly. “It’s urgent.”

For her credit, the woman did hurry and ‘Tina was down rather quickly with her sister Queenie trailing behind. Even more to both _their_ credit, neither woman collapsed like Percival had though ‘Tina was looking ready to.

“How—” started ‘Tina.

“That’s not important now. Grindelwald escaped and you didn’t tell me.”

Both sisters looked to each other, the confusion correcting Percival’s statement.

“You didn’t know. How did you not know?”

Queenie shook her head. “There’s been nothing in the papers, no statement given by the President. I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Then we need to move to headquarters,” ‘Tina quickly interrupted. “Credence…”

Here she hesitated, a hand hesitantly reaching out as to just make sure he was real. He let her and she squeezed his shoulder once she knew there was something solid there. “Credence, would you mind staying with my sister Queenie? I don’t think it would be a good idea if you came with us.”

He just nodded and shuffled his feet, shoulders hunched and head bent down as Queenie gestured forward.

“Here, I’ll make you a nice cup of coco. How would you like that?”

Her voice trailed off as Percival turned his attention back to ‘Tina. “I only just found him.”

‘Tina nodded. “I can tell you’re still in shock. I think I am too. Let’s just hope this is the only shocking news we have tonight.”

Percival nodded in agreement but every bone of his body was screaming at him that Credence had told the truth.

* * *

 

“You were planning on not telling any of us?”

Over a year had passed since his kidnapping. In that time, he’d been tortured, watched his family die, become this broken husk, lost his job, lost connection to his mother, and discovered that a young man who should have died was very much alive. That alone was enough to make Percival either explode or implode but as it was, he was using all that energy to get across each word clear and plainly because before he could fall apart, he needed answers above all else.

President Picquery replied with, “His escape will only cause panic. It is best if this remains a secret.”

“Any panic of Grindelwald’s escape will be miniscule in comparison to what he will do if not caught. It would be better to have the public aware of what is going on rather than leaving them in the dark,” Percival managed to get out. However, his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“Need I remind you that you are not currently an Auror Mr. Graves, nor the Director of Magical Security anymore.”

“But I am an Auror,” ‘Tina quickly put in. “And I believe in what he is saying. We need to—”

“Even if you saved this city with your British friend, understand that you too are on very thin ice,” the President interrupted.

“But the less people know, then the less people there are to actually track him down—” Percival tried.

“Enough!” the President cried. “It is likely that Grindelwald isn’t even in the country anymore. Which if that is the case, then he is not our problem.”

“How can you say that?” asked ‘Tina. “His actions could decide the fate of the whole Wizarding World! You need people—”

“This subject is over,” hissed the President. “Neither of you are permitted to speak of this matter to anyone and if word gets out, I will have you both jailed immediately. Is that clear?”

Percival looked at her and he could see the apology in her eyes. But he could also tell that in his current state, that if it weren’t for Credence he would have only heard of this by the papers. He understood her reasoning, and despite the passage of a year, the people were still rather fearful of exposure and public discourse had grown since the incident. Grindelwald’s escape only supported that fear, but in this case, Percival felt that they would have a better chance of recapturing him if the people were made aware. If he was still Director of Magical Security, his suggestion would have been taken more seriously. As it was, the President only gestured to the door. “This is none of your business. Now please, leave so we can settle this matter privately.”

* * *

 

Percival knew he had no say in the matter but he couldn’t sit by and do nothing. ‘Tina felt the same but before they could truly think of any ideas, they were already back in her apartment (having snuck by her landlord) and froze at the sight in front of them.

“Queenie, what did you do?” asked ‘Tina in a horrified tone as she watched her sister move pieces of their trashed apartment back into place.

“It’s-it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have-have—”

“Nonsense!” Queenie quickly interrupted Credence. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”

“Do what?” asked ‘Tina.

“I wanted to see if he’d like to try a spell. It got…out of hand,” Queenie replied with a bright smile.

“A spell?” Percival questioned. He took a step closer to Credence, seeing how the man still seemed shaken up. All he wished to do was check that he wasn’t hurt and help if he could but Credence flinched away.

Why would he—

Right, because of Grindelwald.

And he was free now.

The man who had let his father die. Who led his sister to madness.

He’d sentenced ‘Tina to die.

A man that had tried to use Credence as a weapon.

The rot.

He could smell it.

The man was out.

And—

 “Percival, it’s alright.” ‘Tina’s voice broke through the stench. “Perhaps a sit down is in order.”

He knew that she had led him to a couch but it took a moment before he could really focus on his surroundings again. When he did, he took note of Credence watching him and a certain level of shame fell upon him as it was clear he was being looked at with confusion and pity. He needed to get a hold of himself. He needed to—

“I will help you Credence,” he suddenly spoke out.

Queenie looked on curiously as ‘Tina asked, “What are you on about?”

“I-I asked him if he would help me find the man,” Credence managed.

“But why would you wish to go after Grindelwald?” asked ‘Tina.

“Because he has done wrong by many and I don’t want him to hurt more. I want…I want to do something good after what I have done as well.”

“Credence,” ‘Tina murmured, “you do not need to atone for—”

“But I feel I should. I have nothing now and I think this could be a purpose. To right the wrongs that have occurred.”

‘Tina shook her head, clearly not liking such an idea as she spun on Percival. “And you, clearly you have heard his before yet now you just agree. Why? Don’t tell me it’s due to—”

“It is not revenge,” murmured Percival with a shake of his head. No, he knew that revenge would do nothing for him. It was because it was his job, to protect others and to protect the Wizarding World. The President had taken that job from him, yet now he could do it again. Without worrying of borders or countries, he could attempt to track down Grindelwald while the others played politics. He said as much to the group in front of him.

Queenie perked up. “And we could be informants!”

“Sister!”

“It would work perfectly,” she continued on though, ignoring ‘Tina’s expression. “We can’t just pretend this problem will solve itself or that it’s up to others to solve it for us. We’ve encountered Grindelwald and know what he is capable of. It’s our duty to others to not stand by idly.”

‘Tina let out a soft sigh and shook her head. She glanced over and Percival quickly added, “I do not want you risking your career or life just because—”

“No. Queenie is right,” sighed ‘Tina. “Besides, we still don’t know how Grindelwald actually escaped. Perhaps someone disguised themselves or maybe he has an informant of his own. For the moment, it would be best if we didn’t put absolute trust in our government.”

Percival nodded in agreement. It seemed more likely that somebody else had been kidnapped and replaced than actually convinced of Grindelwald’s cause. However, he was mainly thinking of the President and the higher ups. Somebody lower on the feeding chain, a face in the shadows and not paid attention to, that was another matter entirely.

“Either way, this is something that will involve a lot of thought,” sighed ‘Tina. “We can’t just be running off with the hopes you’ll happen upon them and everything will fall into place. This will require deliberation and patience which also means a good deal of rest, something which you can’t do here. We should meet in the morning.”

* * *

 

With that, Percival had offered his apartment to Credence, not that he knew where else the man might have stayed. He asked where Credence had been before coming to Percival and he only gave an ambiguous answer of, “Here and there.”

Percival then went about transfiguring his couch into a bed when Credence suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”

He jumped. He couldn’t help it. He’d thought he was standing on the other side of the room yet he had somehow silently made his way to right behind him.

“I’m sorry.”

Percival let out a soft sigh and shook his head. “You can stop apologizing Credence. It is not your fault.”

He gave a slight nod but then murmured, “I feel I should apologize for flinching though. Earlier. He…I thought he was helping me. I thought he cared. But he didn’t and…and that isn’t you. I should not be making that connection.”

“There are many connections that I should not make yet I do anyways,” Percival muttered in response.

“Like the smell?”

Had he been saying that out loud? About the rot that filled his nose and made him sick in stomach and mind? He had to have if Credence knew.

“I would like to help,” Credence murmured, “but I do not know how I would go about it.”

“No, you…you simply being alive is one less thing that I have weighing on my conscious,” replied Percival. And it was true. Even without being there, he had in some small part felt responsible for Credence’s death. “And you have given me a purpose. I have been idle to long and I wish that it was a purpose that did not include the possibility of so many others being harmed. But it is something.”

“Why…why haven’t you been working?” asked Credence hesitantly.

“I am not in a condition adequate of an Auror,” Percival replied softly. “There are certain regulations that I would likely be unable to uphold in my…unpredictable state.”

“Oh,” was all Credence replied.

“Let me grab something for you to sleep in. Would you like anything to eat?”

Credence just gave a stiff shake of his head in response and Percival momentarily left to grab something for the man. Upon coming back, a thought entered Percival’s head and he asked, “Queenie said you performed a spell?”

“I…it was something to do with locks. She…she said it would be interesting if I could succeed. That it was simple enough. But all I can do is control the chaos. I can destroy but I…I cannot create.”

“Maybe for now but I could teach you.”

Credence appeared shocked by the words. “You do not think it is to late?”

“Not at all,” Percival responded as another purpose formed in front of him. An action that he had once been unable to take was something he could now do. He would help Credence and he would not leave his side as willingly as he had before.

In response, Credence’s rather sad, uncertain, and bland expression actually turned hopeful. It was the first time Percival actually saw something akin to a smile.

Percival allowed himself to smile in return. “Get some rest, we will figure out more in the morning.”

Credence nodded and finally took the offered sleeping clothes.

From there, Percival retired to his own bedroom. At first, it felt like things had changed, that there was finally something for him to do. But then his dreams betrayed him. They made him shiver and want to cry out and filled his nose with the smell of rot—

“Mr. Graves?”

Percival’s eyes flashed open to see that Credence had just finished pulling a blanket over him.

“You were shivering,” he supplied softly.

Percival found that he could only nod, the dream still fresh in his mind. Yet as he drifted back to sleep he noted how the smell of rot had suddenly disappeared.

* * *

 

Waking up, he again noted the lack of rot in the air. So often when alone, the smell filled his senses, crushing his heart and warping his mind. But he was not alone now as a quick glance to the side showed Credence had chosen to fall asleep in Percival’s desk chair rather than the transfigured couch.

The thought of protecting, teaching, and helping Credence had made him feel stronger. Similar to that of his brother-in-law and nephew, it made him feel that he did not have the right to fall and become negligent. Yet it seemed that perhaps Credence’s presence would become the truly helpful one.

Slowly sitting up, Percival Graves took a deep breath and nodded to reassure himself. He could and he would fight today. But most importantly, he was no longer forced to do it alone.


End file.
